


I need help, big brother

by LaGemini



Series: Mycroft being genius [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF Anthea (Sherlock), BAMF Mycroft Holmes, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Geniuses, Holmes Brothers, Mycroft Being a Good Brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:02:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25221340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaGemini/pseuds/LaGemini
Summary: Serial kidnapping case forces Sherlock to solve the case as soon as possible. What does he need to be able to do it? Another genius, of course.Mycroft comes in, solving the case beautifully with Sherlock.The Scotland yard is dumbfounded at two Holmeses.Case fic. Around season 1.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Series: Mycroft being genius [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1827256
Comments: 28
Kudos: 405





	1. Chapter 1

Sherlock and John stormed in to the Scotland yard.

Lestrade, Donovan, and Anderson looked up as they came in. They were standing in front of the evidence board.

“Thank you for coming in quickly, Sherlock.” Lestrade said with a tired and stressed face.

Sherlock nodded briefly. “So, serial kidnaps. Three so far, one turned up dead. Why didn’t you call me sooner?” Sherlock asked with reproach, and John agreed silently. Sherlock would have helped. With all the claims of being high functioning sociopath, Sherlock did have a weak spot towards kids.

Lestrade sighed tiredly. “There were no indications of kidnaps being related before now. And it was not my team’s jurisdiction before the body turned up.”

“In other words, cops were being idiot. As usual.” Sherlock said scathingly, and Lestrade just sighed again. Considering Donovan and Anderson being silent as well, they must be under a spectacular amount of stress.

“As you might know, we have no clue of whereabouts of the other two kids, and there were no definite evidences linking to someone we could find. With the condition of the body found,” Lestrade’s face contorted into a grimace, “we are relatively sure that at least one is still alive, and with current schedule, there could be another kidnap within a week.”

John could understand Greg’s grimace. There are photos on the evidence board, and even with all the body parts he saw during his training and being deployed at the Afghanistan, it was gruesome. The signs of body belonging to the kid’s only added the chill.

“I only saw what was released on the media. And like all the ongoing investigation, there weren’t much. Not that I think you would have something useful. Give me all you have, Lestrade.” Sherlock was already scanning the evidence board and slipped into the work mode.

“Here, freak.” Anderson handed neat pile of files, scorn in his eyes evident.

Sherlock didn’t even acknowledge it, but John saw it anyway. He didn’t like it. Anderson was a cop. He must be able to see people’s true nature on some level, mustn’t he? He should know by now that Sherlock do want to solve the problems faster related to the kids, at least.

But it is not the time, so he let it go and looked over the autopsy report Sherlock handed over.

By the time he read it all, he felt sick. Rape, physical torture, and malnutrition. The degree of the violations is brutal even to adults. And the kid was 10!

“John, Your assessment?” Sherlock asked without looking up.

“Not much. Right handed, surgical tools were involved and he has extensive knowledge about human body but not a trained doctor, wounds are patched up and stitched efficiently but unprofessionally, rape was plain old penetration with condoms involved, and the cause of death is malnutrition. Water must be given though, there were no signs of dehydration.” John told Sherlock what he found, but he was frustrated at not finding anything useful. The police would know about them anyway.

Sherlock emitted a noncommittal hum. His eyes were rapidly roving over the facts and photos on the files. “Why aren’t I called to the dump site?”

“Because there were too many reporters crawling around for us to maintain the crime scene. I got an order to wrap up immediately.” Lestrade answered raking his hair with his hand.

“And that was three hours ago.” Sherlock shot back.

“I had to officially put your name on this case and got approved. This is a high profile case with a _lot_ of media attention. I can’t get you in the crime scene quietly this time.” Lestrade answered patiently.

“I think you are mistaken, freak, we don’t work for you. We had things to do.” Donovan retorted, not able to hold her tongue any longer with all the stress she was in.

“Yes, not solving the kidnap, apparently.” Sherlock answered absentmindedly, and John could see that it infuriated Donovan more.

Thankfully, Greg interrupted sooner this time with the case they have. He eyed Donovan sternly, and she backed off with a stiff nod. She does know that she couldn’t chase the freak away right now, even if their prides are bruised. The kids need to be found as soon as possible, and she could even kiss the freak’s foot if he manages to find the kids.

John watched Sherlock going through the information, and getting frustrated as time passes. It means it is not an easy case, and the kids will have to suffer for the duration of the case being solved. John felt dread at what the kids must be going through. He has pretty good ideas from the autopsy report.

Soon enough, Sherlock went through all the files. There weren’t much with only one dump site and chaotic witness reports.

Sherlock stuck his hands under his chin. He needs to think. This is at least an 8. Oh, he was sure he could solve it at the end, but current track records show that it takes minimum two days to solve the 8. And they couldn’t afford that time right now.

Sherlock went through all the relevant information in his head once again, hoping fervently that he didn’t need to resort to _that_ method and find something conclusive, but he couldn’t.

He sighed frustratingly. He has no other choice.

The others were watching Sherlock when he was done with the files, knowing Sherlock must have reached some kind of decision. So they were surprised at Sherlock pulling out his phone instead of saying something or heaven forbid, running off.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Lestrade stopped Sherlock urgently. He really couldn’t let Sherlock to act individually this time. There are too many eyes. “Who are you calling?”

Sherlock huffed at him, but answered anyway. “Mycroft.”

That surprised John because he knows Sherlock doesn’t like contacting Mycroft.

Lestrade doesn’t know anything more than Mycroft being some kind of high-ranking government officer, so he couldn’t understand what he has to do with it. On the other hand, Donovan and Anderson doesn’t know the name, so they were confused.

“Is the secret service involved in the case? Or do you need some kind of information from him?” John asked. He couldn’t think of any other reason for Sherlock voluntarily contacting Mycroft.

“No.” Sherlock answered, not providing any more explanation.

Lestrade sighed impatiently. He didn’t know Sherlock’s brother is in secret service, but that’s not important now. “Then why are you calling him? We can’t leak the information out.”

Sherlock scoffed at that. “Oh please, Mycroft has higher security level than PM. We don’t have time for this.” With that, Sherlock typed remaining numbers and called Mycroft.

Greg turned to John to verify that statement, not knowing if he should actually believe Sherlock or not. Sherlock does not lie unless needed for the case, but it was a bit hard to believe Sherlock’s brother ranking that high. Even if he admits that the man surely possessed the aura.

John nodded an affirmative at Greg. He still doesn’t know Mycroft’s exact role in the government, but even knowing it must be way above his paygrade. At least he was sure that Mycroft has more than enough authorization to know about the case.

Donovan and Anderson watched in disbelief about Sherlock knowing someone that high.

Soon, Mycroft picked up the call. _“Yes, Sherlock?”_

“Sixth ring, are you in the meeting?”

_“Yes, actually. So please make it short. What do you need? And why am I on the speaker phone?”_

Sherlock rolled his eyes as the others widened their eyes. Idiots. It’s easy enough to notice when their own voice resonates more than usual.

“Because Lestrade insisted that I should. He didn’t necessarily believe that you have enough security level to know about the case.”

_“Ah, I assure you, inspector, I do. I could provide an evidence, but as I said, I am in the meeting and you won’t have called me if it wasn’t urgent. So what do you need, Sherlock?”_

“So you didn’t see the news. Or get a report on my whereabouts.”

_“I have been in successive meetings for over three hours, Sherlock.”_ Sherlock could hear a slight fatigue from Mycroft’s tone. Dealing with moronic politicians then. _“And there weren’t reports about you being in danger, so no. I am guessing you have a case. An important one, enough to be on the news. Do you need an information? Do you need an access to some secured facility?”_

“No.” Sherlock didn’t offer more.

Mycroft let out a tired sigh. He really wishes Sherlock to spit out what he needs so he could go back to the meeting and finish it. _“Sherlock.”_

Sherlock could hear Mycroft’s waning patience. It is far from Mycroft’s limit, but he did need Mycroft this time. “I need help.” He bit out through the clenched teeth.

There was an utter silence from here and over the phone. Everyone stared at Sherlock like he went barking mad. John, more so, knowing how Sherlock hates admitting he needs something from his brother. Admitting he needs Mycroft’s brain? Unheard of.

_“…Is the kid involved? Time must be an essence, so kidnap. More than one, surely, and the evidence of brutality must be known. One body, today, or you would have been called earlier.”_ Mycroft concluded without waiting for the answer. There’s no other explanation for Sherlock to call him and ask him to solve a case with him.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at Mycroft stating the obvious, but Lestrade was shocked at Sherlock’s brother also good at deducing things. Donovan and Anderson, who still don’t know who Mycroft is, stared at the phone in disbelief.

“Stating the obvious, Mycroft? It’s at least an 8. One body found, two still unknown, and there is a high possibility of happening again in four days.”

Mycroft sighed. _“One moment.”_ They didn’t know what they were waiting for a few seconds, but then they could hear the faint voice. _“…Prime Minister, sorry for the interruption, but it’s an urgent call. I am sure that our meeting could be continued in the future. I will gather the information about the things we talked about in the meantime. Please, schedule a meeting with my PA, thank you.”_

Sherlock was the picture of impatience, but the cops were still reeling at the situation. The man is actually cancelling his meeting with the PM, unilaterally one might add, because Sherlock asked for help? But they have to find the kids, so they tried to focus on their searches.

Mycroft came back to the phone. _“I’ll see if our information could point us somewhere, but you know I can’t use secret services to solve the case.”_

“Of course you can.” Sherlock rolled his eyes. Of course Mycroft could use them as they pleased. He just won’t.

Mycroft ignored the comment. _“And I asked Anthea to provide me the case files. I cancelled all the remaining meetings today. Do you want me to go over there right now or do you have possible leads to follow?”_

“I have to check the dump site and a couple of eye witnesses. I know you’re lazy, so I’ll do the legwork. Do you have your files?”

_“Thank you, Anthea. Yes, I just received it. Now, the first kid.”_

“Found in a ditch, dead for about 15 hours.”

_“But dumped about 6 hours before the photo was taken.”_

“Yes, it rained yesterday. He was restrained.”

_“For the whole duration of captivity, yes. But the house must be big enough to contain three kids individually. Clothes are his own.”_

“It was washed right before he dressed him to dump him.”

_“Yes. Groomed right after the death. The kid must be carried from home to the car and to the ditch. No other signs of dirt or fibers.”_

“He was careful. Did you see the wounds?”

_“Yes. Fascination with knives. Only superficial wounds for him to be able to stitch it back without complications. And carefully calculated spots to inflict maximum pain and minimum damage, but no medical personal.”_

“He must have studied human body extensively. Self-study?”

Mycroft hummed. Sherlock asked sharply. “What?”

_“BDSM, Sherlock. He must have had previous experiences with knives. He is a pedophile, but BDSM isn’t always about sex and that scene is the most feasible place to test his fetishes legally. But he must have wanted to try on kids. Or he may have been banned from the scene from severity of the wounds or not following the safeword policy. Look for it.”_

“How should I know where to find BDMS clubs?!” Sherlock fumed. He knows locations of clubs, but he doesn't know which one is specializing in BDSM. And he doesn't like admitting of not knowing something.

_“Oh, Sherlock,”_ Mycroft said fondly. _“I am sure some cops will know. They are capable enough to inquire about banned personal or someone with the obssession with blood play. Trust them.”_

Sherlock scoffed. “Fine.”

John watched in fascination at the two Holmes talking. He couldn’t follow their whole reasoning because they didn’t have to explain it to the other, even though John has a feeling that they actually _are_ explaining things for their sake, but it was fascinating nonetheless. He is watching two of the greatest minds at work.

And he could see everyone in the precinct following the conversation with their files forgotten in front of them.

_“Now, kid two and three. Looks like the killer has a type.”_

“Yes. Red hair, blue eyes, and chubby. Like when you were young.” Sherlock snarked.

Mycroft didn’t react any more than noncommittal hum. It was a familiar quip. _“The first kid could have lived longer if food was given periodically. I am reliably certain that this case will be featured extensively on the news for over a week.”_

Sherlock groaned. “Who is it this time? What scandal do they have to cover?”

_“I couldn’t tell you, of course. But the scandal or the personage are not related to the case. Timing is coincidence, but they will do whatever it takes to turn media attention to this case.”_

“Are you sure? You always said that the universe is,”

_“So rarely lazy, yes. But I am sure it is not related. On the other hand, with all the media attention, it is highly probable that the killer will postpone another kidnap and try to make remaining kids survive longer.”_

“The kidnapped kids’ photos are not leaked yet.”

_“But you know they will, Sherlock. I estimate that the news will be aired in two hours.”_

Sherlock conceded. He knew there’s no way that won’t be broadcasted, and his brother’s prediction of future are rarely wrong.

“Are you estimating the duration of the case to be that long? So that we should worry about another kidnap happening?” Sherlock asked. He called his brother because he wanted to prevent that.

There was a tapping sound over the phone for a few seconds. Telltale sign of Mycroft calculating things using all his brain capacity. _“No.”_ Mycroft answered decisively. _“Unless the suspect is spooked enough to kill both of the remaining kids and start over the collection, the case will be solved before another kidnapping. If there are no complications, I think you would find the kids tomorrow morning. The second one will be severely malnourished, but the killer would have given him something to eat today. Both will survive. Physically, at least.”_

Sherlock heaved a relieved sigh at that. John wasn’t used to hearing Mycroft’s premonition, but he was slightly relieved as well. He trusted Sherlock, and Sherlock seems to trust Mycroft’s prediction.

“So, the witness testimony.” Sherlock went back to the topic.

_“Yes, I read it during our talk. Ms. Jenkins, Mrs. Walker, and Mr. Kim should be interviewed again.”_

“I already knew that.” Sherlock answered petulantly.

_“I don’t doubt it, little brother.”_ Mycroft answered fondly.

There were gasps throughout the room at the declaration. John heard someone mutters ‘There’s two of them!?’. He thought it hilarious despite of the situation.

And Sherlock growled. He was absolutely sure Mycroft did that on purpose. Who was he kidding, there’s nothing Mycroft does without purpose.

“I’m going out. I’ll let you know if I have something.” Sherlock said in clipped tone.

_“Sherlock, the inspector is in high pressure with this case. You cannot act on your own this time. It could very well mean the killer walking away even with irrefutable evidences. If you find something, call him or go back to the yard. If you head back to the yard after visiting the dump site and the witnesses, I’ll come as well.”_

“What if I don’t?” Sherlock challenged.

_“I could ban you from the case. You know that, brother mine.”_

“You wouldn’t!” Sherlock shouted in alarm. And Greg thought he might fall in love with Mycroft Holmes right now.

_“You know I would, even if it means I have to do the legworks myself.”_

Sherlock scoffed. “Yourself, my ass. You will order your agents to do it instead of you.”

_“Sherlock.”_ Mycroft admonishes softly.

“Fine.” Sherlock snapped. “I’ll come back to the yard after. You will undoubtedly follow me around with the CCTVs, so don’t be late when I’m back here.” Sherlock disconnected the call with a vicious stab.

“Come on, John. We have places to be.” Sherlock said sulkily. He stalked out without waiting for John to follow.

John got up dutifully at Sherlock’s words before waving goodbye at Greg. He looked less stressed than before, John thought. It must be the hope Mycroft and Sherlock shed to the case. If Mycroft’s prediction is right, the kids will be found tomorrow. He really hoped it’s true. Even thinking about what they will go through for another day chills him.


	2. Chapter 2

When John and Sherlock arrived back at the yard about four hours later, Mycroft was there. He was sitting primly at the plastic chair, making it look like a throne, with his usual three-piece suit and umbrella.

John was sure he has never been so glad at seeing Mycroft. The witnesses were distressed at the kidnaps and subsequent kill, and it grated on him. The only silver lining was that Mycroft’s prediction about the news being broadcasted two hours earlier was proven right. He sincerely hoped the kids being found by tomorrow morning is right as well.

“Hello, Sherlock. Dr. Watson.” He nodded politely, being ever the polite one contrary to Sherlock. It was making the cops question about their blood relation adding to their different looks.

Sherlock sulked at seeing Mycroft and sat down on one of the chair without answering him. John nodded back at Mycroft and Greg before sitting down as well.

“Inspector’s team and abduction response team are questioning BDSM scenes. Now that it’s around 10, they will have more luck. Tell me what you found, little brother.” Mycroft prompted.

Sherlock scowled at it, but he reminded himself that there’s a reason he called Mycroft. They need to find the kids.

He pulled out his phone to show him pictures. “Dump site. Tire tracks, access points, trees overshadowing it, you know there’s no CCTVs, no blood trail or garments tossed along the road I could find. Of course, the cops trampled the scene completely for me to find anything useful.”

Mycroft examined the photos closely. He hummed for a few seconds. “Tire tracks.”

Sherlock’s mouth formed O. “Oh, of course. Naturally.”

Lestrade doesn’t know what is natural. “What? What is it?”

Sherlock ignored him, but Mycroft answered him. He could think while talking anyway. Sherlock could as well, of course, he just doesn’t care. “It rained briefly last night. The suspect took a risk of leaving more evidence than he wants by dumping the body today morning. He had to, because the kid died yesterday and he couldn’t keep the body for some reason. The suspect has enough space to keep the kids separately and doesn’t have to worry about being heard, so it won’t be about smell being acknowledged immediately. Hence, he may have a reason to be unable to dump the body for a couple of days. The kids were all abducted at different times, so someone with altering work time but had to work on quiet times for a day or two. Probably rotation.’

‘The body was not positioned, but it was not discarded from the running car. The suspect carried it out and placed it on the ditch himself. He had to watch if there’s no one passing by during the deposition, which means he needed a ruse to pull over. He pretended to change the tire. The tire track was trampled beyond useful, but the indentation of the tire laid supports the theory. Not useful in identification, but it shows the suspect’s character.”

John noticed that Mycroft’s explanation was far more detailed and kind than Sherlock’s. But he got the feeling that it’s because Mycroft knows how much of an idiot normal people are, and not because he is especially kind than Sherlock.

“The roads?” Sherlock asked.

“We don’t have enough information about the suspect to narrow down the suspect pool.”

Yes, like that, John thought. Mycroft is giving a lengthy answer for their sake.

“Witnesses first, then. Mrs. Walker wasn’t any help. Mr. Kim remembered seeing a police at the stairs the day before the kidnap. There were loud noises for over an hour, so he just thought someone called in. I checked, there wasn’t a dispatch. Ms. Jenkins said she is absolutely sure the third kid was playing with her charge one minute and then just disappeared. She swore she only picked up a dropped scarf and when she looked up to check her charge, the other kid was gone. And she didn’t saw anyone lingering that stood out to her during her whole stay at the mall.”

Mycroft looked up sharply from his umbrella at that. Sherlock arched his eyebrow. Mycroft nodded.

Then, Sherlock went into his mind palace without any further explanation.

Mycroft did warn them, though. “Please nudge us if sufficient amount of people came back from the clubs.” And then, he went into his mind palace as well.

It was the first time John saw Mycroft using his mind palace. Contrary to Sherlock who were seeing and maneuvering things only he could see, Mycroft was totally still with his eyes closed except his index finger tapping on the umbrella handle. He looks like a powered down robot, John thought.

Lestrade went back to his work, calling and receiving calls from various people, and managing the search. John sat down and waited for something to happen, watching Holmes brothers deep in their thoughts. He knows he has to wait long, but he knows he won’t be able to do anything else even if he goes home during the waiting.

He doesn’t know what the brothers are thinking about, but since Mycroft’s prediction about the news came true, he is hopeful that it’s related to something that will help finding the kids by tomorrow morning.

It was close to one when the cops started to get back from inquiring the clubs. John moved around a bit to go to toilet, get some water, etc., but the Holmes brothers were still in their respective mind palaces.

Lestrade and John didn’t know how many were sufficient amount to wake them up, but thankfully, almost all cops came back at the same time, so they didn’t need to worry about it.

John nudged Mycroft first, because he knew Sherlock doesn’t like to be interrupted during being in the mind palace. Mycroft, on the other hand, told him to nudge him, so.

As soon as John placed his hand over Mycroft’s elbow, Mycroft opened his eyes without any dramatic flare. He looked like he just took a long blink. He smiled politely at John, and stood up to walk over to Sherlock.

John watched in fascination as Mycroft pulled Sherlock out from his mind palace efficiently. He didn’t touch Sherlock, but two successive snaps in front of him and stern voice of ‘ _Sherlock’_ did the trick. John was not sure if that could be done by anyone else, or if he only responses to Mycroft. God knows John wasn’t able to do it that easily.

And Sherlock’s waking up was way more dramatic with sudden stillness of his arms, snapping up his head, and blinking rapidly several times.

“What?” Sherlock snapped seeing Mycroft in front of him.

“They are back, little brother. Let’s hear what they found, shall we?” Mycroft smiled indulgently.

John knew the cops were staring at them with fascination as well. They didn’t know the brother’s usual interaction, but they all have suffered Sherlock one way or the other. They just couldn’t believe that Sherlock has a brother, another genius one, and that he is so different from Sherlock.

Sherlock grumbled, but turned to Lestrade without further protest.

Mycroft smiled his usual fake smile towards inspector. “Please, inspector, we need a data.”

Lestrade nodded, and so every cops took their turn to report their finding. Where they went, if there were anyone banned from the clubs, if there were someone especially fascinated with blood play, or if there were man performing scene without sexual aspect and somewhat felt weird. When did he get banned and the descriptions.

Mycroft heard all of it patiently – Sherlock was scowling at the cops’ incompetence – and thanked them as they all were finished.

The clubs were understandably reluctant at sharing the information, but they didn’t mind telling the description of who they banned. Some clubs provided their faces from their CCTVs.

There were quite a lot who were banned and fascinated at blood play, but it was easy for Sherlock and Mycroft to pinpoint one.

“That one.” Sherlock pointed one grainy picture. Mycroft nodded his agreement.

Cops flocked around the pointed picture. It was Donovan’s.

Mycroft picked two other pictures to hold out to them. “They are all the same man in disguise. We need the feed with his entire body shown to know more.”

Donovan and the other two scrambled to call the picked clubs.

Mycroft didn’t pay them anymore attention, believing they will do the job. “The timeline, Sherlock.” He pointed out to Sherlock instead.

“Yes, I know.” Sherlock answered somewhat petulantly and gravely.

John tensed hearing the tone. “What is it, Sherlock?”

“There should be at least one more body.” Sherlock clenched his jaw. The cops obviously didn’t make the connection. _Idiots_.

There were several gasps from the team. They suffered Sherlock enough to know he is usually right. John felt sick.

Mycroft tilted his head. “One. Two would have gathered attention. And it’s adult. Or rather, a prostitute with slender frame. Died from blood loss, several cuts, no penetration. Five months ago. Is there, inspector?” Mycroft assessed aloud and directed his question to inspector.

Greg was slightly taken back by rapid conclusions, but he is good at adapting, and he has been working with Sherlock for a few years. He immediately raked his brain. “No, not my team’s case. Anderson, go find it. We need to know the location and the condition of dump site.”

Mycroft allowed a smile towards the inspector.

Sherlock didn’t care. Lestrade should know how to proceed that, at least. “Mycroft, the roads.”

“We need a second dump site and possible occupation, Sherlock.” Mycroft leaned on his umbrella a bit more. It’s past two.

Sherlock of course noticed and scoffed. “You should work out more, Mycroft. You are not that old to be that weak. It’s only two. Who knows, it will help your waist line.”

Mycroft gave his usual fake smile. “Of course, little brother. You didn’t notice me jetlagged, then?”

Sherlock spared a glance at him. “North Korea, dull.” He snapped his head back to Mycroft a mere second later. “Why were you there for a _week_? Will there be a war?”

“Of course not, Sherlock. I was there for a _week_.” Mycroft answered with distaste.

Sherlock dismissed the information from his data hearing the answer. He doesn’t need to know, then. He shook his legs impatiently. Why are they so late?

Contrary to Sherlock, John and Lestrade stared at Mycroft open-mouthed. They don’t know how much of that is true, and what should they think about it. Mycroft just answered with his fake smile once more.

Before they could come up with something to say, Donovan raced in with a faxed photo.

“They don’t have a footage, it was too long ago, but they kept this for a blacklist.” Donovan presented a photo. The face was slightly tilted and obscured for any facial recognition program, but the whole attire and posture was shown in the picture. It was not grainy footage from CCTV.

“Security guard.” Sherlock said as soon as he saw the picture. “Not the mall, though, a bit higher end.”

“Gardening. Zone 4, probably. Managing his car on his own. Commuting every day. We need a dump site.” Mycroft turned his gaze toward the inspector, piercingly.

Greg was quite sure that they are on to something, and he himself needed that dump site hours ago if that meant they could find the kids.

Thankfully, Anderson ran in moments later.

Anderson started to say “I found…” holding a file, but Sherlock snatched the file from his hand.

Anderson said something, but Sherlock didn’t pay any mind, checking the dump site. Good, within the estimated area. He shot his head up to meet Mycroft’s eyes and nodded. Mycroft nodded back.

They know what they are going to do, so they sat down on the chairs promptly, ignoring the questioning gazes.

Mycroft crossed his legs and pulled out all the information he stacked in his mind palace temporarily for this purpose. Sherlock started. “Honeypot Lane.” Tap. “No.” “Charlton Road.” Tap. “No.” “Streetfield Road.” Tap. “No.” Kenmore Road.” Tap. “No.” “Westfield Gardens.” Tap. “No.” “Hinkler Road.” Tap. “No.” “Brancker Road.” Tap. “No.” “Hunters Grove.” Tap. “No.” And so on.

The cops didn’t know what they were doing, just starting to recite the road names. Yes, Sherlock remembering all the adjacent roads are impressive, but they couldn’t understand their relevance to the case. That is, until Mycroft finally said something other than no.

“Elms Lane.” Tap. “Possibly. LL12 ZRG.”

It took a couple of seconds for Lestrade to pick up the meaning. And the possible explanation was too outrageous to actually believe it. “What…?” He let out a strangled question.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Possible suspect, Lestrade. Do keep up. That car was driven by someone similar to the suspect, went through the Elms Lane between 6 to 8 this morning.”

Mycroft quirked his eyebrow at the dumbfounded expressions. “You don’t think I was sitting idly while Sherlock and Dr. Watson were running around for four hours, do you?”

“You would’ve wanted that.” Sherlock quipped.

“Yes, but how could I with you asking for my help?” Mycroft smiled.

Sherlock seethed and went back to reciting the probable roads the suspect could have taken, considering the dumb sites and the possible work places. Geological profiling or something. He deleted the name as soon as he heard it. Mycroft could have done it alone, but this is faster. He knows the roads better than Mycroft, after all.

The cops and John were still dumbfounded even after Sherlock and Mycroft reached zone 1 and finished soon after. They were just automatically writing down the plate numbers and typing into the system.

“7 possibilities. Couldn’t you have made it smaller?” Sherlock snarked.

“It’s not my fault that they all were riding a car today, Sherlock. Or for them to have similar build and similar occupation.” Mycroft answered calmly. It will only infuriate his brother more. “Their photos, inspector?”

Greg was still moving automatically without deep thoughts. He gathered the photos his team produced, dumbfounded as him, he noted, and presented it.

“That’s him,” Mycroft and Sherlock pointed one photo at the same time.

Greg scrabbled to get the information of him. “Samuel Henson. Security at Harrods. Donovan,” He handed the address over to Donovan and she immediately started to work on setting up a SWAT team. “I need more than that, Sherlock, Mr. Holmes. I need a warrant.”

Mycroft hummed. “The second kid was lost and stayed with the staff for two hours at the Harrods last year, the first kid’s mother and the third kid’s family frequents there. It’s a bit of a stretch, but it’s a connection. Check Henson’s shifts, they will coincide with the kidnaps. And his car will be spotted leaving the mall parking lot soon after the third kidnap. With his fascination at blood play on the clubs and those, search warrant will be granted.” Mycroft answered while tapping the phone.

Greg was bewildered at the progress, but he didn’t question the actuality. Sherlock wasn’t, and he’s happy as long as he could get the bastard.

Sherlock was pouting at not being able to solve it on his own. “You cheated,” He accused. “You made your agents gather all the traffic cam shots and CCTV footages for you to see and compile a report about the families!”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “I thought that was the point, little brother. Getting help from my brain and my resources to find the kids sooner. And I only utilized volunteers. They were enthusiastic to catch the killer when they saw the photo of the body. Who am I to refuse them?”

Sherlock scowled, not being able to answer that. “It’s four. It’s not morning!”

John snorted at Sherlock’s childish dig. He was thankful that they found the suspect earlier. Even though he couldn’t wrap his mind about how they found him.

Mycroft smiled benevolently. “They need a warrant, Sherlock. And they need more than our said so to issue one. Of course, they have to gather a SWAT team and we should actually go over there. And he will use the kids as a hostage. It will be around seven when we get them.”

“Why can’t your words be a suitable ground for a warrant?” Sherlock asked with narrowed eyes, genuinely perplexed. His words, he gets it, but Mycroft’s? He couldn’t help but think that Mycroft is refraining.

“Because as I said, it could mean the suspect walking free if they don’t follow by books with the case with high media attention. See, Sherlock.” Mycroft pointed his phone to Sherlock and played the video Anthea just sent.

The video was the security footages of Henson at Harrods while he was working. It didn’t show much, but it was enough for the brothers to judge the personality of him.

“As you can see, he won’t touch the kids tonight, don’t worry. See you at six thirty, little brother.” Mycroft walked out with that, swinging his umbrella.

Sherlock just huffed, and nobody else dared to question his prediction enough to stop him. They saw what happened with their own eyes, and they don’t actually need him to be around now.

“Did he…” John finally found the words for the first time after the brothers started to recite the roads. “Did he actually remembered all the footages?” He managed with an effort.

Sherlock pouted at John thinking someone brilliant that’s not him, and even worse, it’s Mycroft! “Yes and no. Yes, he could memorize it all if he wants and it’s not that different, but no, what he did was more like connecting the dots from the sea of information.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes at uncomprehending expressions of John and a few remaining cops. “There are too many overlaps in the footages, John. How many times one will be sighted on CCTVs when they go from A to B? Too many. With all the footages, Mycroft sorted the individual routes and respective time stamps. Then you only need one photo to know the model of the car, plate number, and the feature of the driver. He memorized all the footages for four hours of us running around, yes, but he deleted majority of them, sorting through the information while we were waiting here and in the mind palace.”

“So he memorized every Londoners’ routes and their respective time stamps; when and where they crossed certain roads. Everyone who drove between 6 and 8 today, no yesterday morning.” John checked once more, incredulously.

“Male drivers who could have erections.” Sherlock corrected petulantly, but it doesn’t make a difference to John. If you divide infinity by 2, it’s still infinity.

“…Wow.” John didn’t know what to say other than that.

Sherlock pouted some more. “I could do it as well if I want to. It’s just that Mycroft is more efficient at recognizing patterns from all the information with his practices. And I had to do the legwork he so despises.”

John smiled. Not condescendingly, because he does believe Sherlock can do that. But as Sherlock trying to not say, Mycroft must be better at doing it. It didn’t matter to him. They are both unrealistic geniuses to him, and the most important thing to him was that Sherlock asked for Mycroft’s help for the kids even if he dislikes doing that passionately.

John and Sherlock were waiting at the yard. Sherlock wanted to go back to flat and come back at 6, but Greg pleaded them to stay, not believing that Sherlock won’t go off on his own and spook the suspect.

Sherlock huffed and sulked, but remained at the yard. John thought Greg might have to do the inventory or filing after this with Sherlock’s bored and frustrated crawling. He, on the other hand, took a nap now that he is finally at some ease with the prospect of getting the suspect.

A bit before five thirty, he woke up at commotion around him. There were fully armed SWAT team running out and Greg shouting instructions.

Sherlock pulled John into one of the police car. “Lestrade is paranoid of me going on my own by taxi.” He grumbled.

John yawned. “We are going there, Sherlock. Greg is just worried about letting that bastard go.” He cajoled half-heartedly.

“Killing him would solve that problem.” Sherlock shrugged.

Unfortunately, John agrees with Sherlock’s normally ‘a bit not good’ statement this time. He would rather kill that dirtbag than locking him up behind bars and using his tax to feed him.

Sherlock of course noticed the thought, and smiled smugly. John just yawned once more and wriggled to get more comfortable. It will be a long ride, with tense cops and impatient Sherlock in one car.

They were. They arrived way earlier than normally due to the early hour, but it was too _long_. He sighed, slumped in the backseat.

But he snapped back to military stand as soon as he got off. They are civilians here, and they couldn’t get in a way to hinder the arrest.

It was over six, but it was still dark and silent with houses far apart,

John felt anxious anticipation, and he could see Sherlock was vibrating with tension. He reminded himself to look out for Sherlock, to hold him back.

“Where’s Mycroft?” Sherlock asked impatiently, looking around.

John looked around as well, but all he could see was Greg and the SWAT team leader planning and the team readying to take their respective positions. “It’s not 6:30 yet, Sherlock.”

Before Sherlock could answer, the SWAT team and the gathered cops all raised their guns. As John’s gaze snapped back to the house, he could see a small silhouette coming out from the house.

John doesn’t know how the Henson could have known them coming with the darkness. They didn’t turn on the siren, but obviously, he noticed.

The silhouette came closer, and the cops turned their guns to the floor as it was clear it was a kid. The third kid, to be exact. The SWAT team leader ran up to get him.

With the SWAT team and cops dispersed to block escape routes, there were only Greg, Donovan, Sherlock, and John when the leader brought the kid to them. The kid was pale, trembling, and tear streaked. John’s heart constricted at the signs of cuts and rape he could glimpse.

“Hello, Jake. I am Greg Lestrade, the police. Can you tell me where can I find the one who did this to you and the other kid?” Greg asked softly.

The kid was shaking too severely to conjure up a good sentence. During that, Mycroft arrived silently. John was spooked at seeing Mycroft standing beside him without him noticing. He looked refreshed with new three-piece suit and ever-present umbrella.

He looked back at the kid as he finally could say something. “He… He’s a, at… do, d, doo… door… with…”

“He’s at door with the other kid, right?” Greg answered patiently and softly. The kid nodded.

“He, he said… to ge, get off… a, and… let hi, him go...”

“He wants us to disappear to let him escape and not catch him.” It was Greg again. He was good with kids, John thought.

“A, and told me to co, c, come… b, back…” The kid started to cry harder at that.

“Okay, okay, Jake. You did good. Can I ask you one more? Only one. Yes? Thank you. Did he have a gun?” The kid nodded. Greg’s expression tightened, but he managed a gentle smile to the kid.

Greg eyed Donovan. She understood it at once and gently guided the kid to the side.

“We couldn’t give him back.” The SWAT leader said firmly. Greg agreed at once. His personal opinion and regulation both told him not to. It leaves one problem, though.

“Will the other kid okay if we don’t give the kid back?” John asked. He absolutely agrees with the decision, but he couldn’t imagine the suspect taking kindly of their decision.

Greg’s face turned grim, but before he could say anything, Mycroft spoke up. “It’s my turn now, I think.” He smiled his usual fake smile, and turned swiftly to walk over the house, swinging his umbrella.

Everyone turned to face him in confusion, but he wasn’t there already. Sherlock, on the other hand, seemed gleeful at the declaration.

“...Wha,” Greg couldn’t even finish his words. Before anyone could stop him, that damn never ending legs, Greg cursed, Mycroft was already passing through the SWAT team. They couldn’t risk sending someone to retrieve Mycroft now. It might spook the suspect more.

The door opened halfway to reveal Henson holding the second kid to cover his head and heart, who looked well on his way to be starved to death, when Mycroft arrived within 15 feet from the door. He also was holding a gun to the kid’s head.

“Stand still! Who are you? Where’s the Jake?” Henson shouted, waving his gun to the second kid’s head threateningly.

Mycroft stopped and smiled his usual fake smile. “I’m his distant relative.” He eyed the kid to lessen the possible confusion. Particularly idiotic and disgusting goldfish, him. “Sadly, my wife is dear to her mother. I need to take him back alive.” Mycroft tilted his head slightly to the right for a second, and righted himself.

There were some distances, but all cops could hear him with all the silence and Mycroft’s cold and piercing tone.

John doesn’t know how much surprise he has experienced within a day. He couldn’t help but whisper, “Mycroft was married!?” to Sherlock.

Sherlock, who was watching the scene with almost giddy expression, shot John a ‘You IDIOT’ gaze before rolling his eyes and whispered back. “Of course not. Now silent, John.”

“That’s not my business, is it?” Henson retorted cruelly. “You, go back. Where’s Jake? And y’all get out of here before I kill the kid!” He shouted once more.

“You see, Mr. Henson. I am just a lowly government official,” Sherlock snorted besides John. “But her Majesty is quite fond of me. There are quite a few who don’t want to see me dead as well. I believe I will be a much more valuable hostage then two kids, don’t you think?” Mycroft nodded to himself while taking a step forward.

“Do we have a clean shot?” Greg whispered at the mic. “His half is covered by the door and the other half is covered by the kid. We don’t have a clean shot.” The leader answered after gathering the reports. Greg bit his lip. “Take a shot if we do.” He ordered after a second. “Yes, sir.”

“Don’t move! Do you want to kill the kid?” Henson shouted to still moving Mycroft.

“I don’t think you would. You can’t kill the kid right now with all the police, can you? So, take me as a hostage, Mr. Henson. It’s a much better choice.” Mycroft took steady steps towards Henson.

After two steps, Henson was visibly starting to panic. Greg wanted to shout at Mycroft to get the hell out of there and stop setting him off.

“Stop right there! Don’t m,” Henson panicked and swung the gun towards Mycroft. As soon as the gun was pointing at him, Mycroft smiled coldly and there was a gunfire.

Greg bolted up at the shot, Sherlock jumped up with excitement, and John was assessing the situation with his still hands.

Like a slow motion, Henson slid down to the ground, dropping the gun and the kid.

Since it was obvious that the threat is neutralized, Greg’s team ran to the door. Sherlock was ahead of them, of course.

Sherlock started gleefully, “Well done, brot-” “Are you insane!?” Greg shouted.

Mycroft merely raised his brow. “Pardon?”

“What were you thinking? Going on your own without any weapons or protection gears and risking the kid by setting off the suspect!?” Greg checked if the Henson is actually dead, gently handed the kid over to Donovan, and unloaded Henson’s gun while shouting.

Mycroft gave him a fake smile. “As I said, inspector, there are quite a few who don’t want me dead. I always have a security team following me, and they saw Henson’s act as a threat to mine. Of course, I had made sure the kid won’t be on the line of fire.”

Sherlock explained more gleefully right after him. “Mycroft was signaling the sniper where to move their aim by tilting his head. Sniper only saw the door, but Mycroft saw the extension of the trajectory. It was enough.”

Greg and John stared at Mycroft disbelievingly. It almost sounded like Mycroft staged the situation to kill Henson. Mycroft just gave his usual fake smile, but that only solidified their suspicion.

Right then, Anthea emerged behind Mycroft. “Sir, the threat is successfully neutralized. The Prime Minister insisted that he should talk with you today, so I slotted him at 7:40. He will be waiting you when you head back. I have reports from American ambassador for you to check on the car, and M is waiting on the line for the call.” Anthea reported in her usual business tone.

John would have thought nothing is amiss, if she wasn’t holding a case which would be a perfect size to store a rifle. Anthea noticed the stare of John and Greg, and briefly looked up from her blackberry to give her usual uninterested smile. John _really_ wanted to ask her out.

Mycroft nodded to Anthea and turned to face them. “I’m glad that all is settled. I’ll send you a statement via email, inspector. If you need something else, please call Anthea. Dr. Watson. Goodbye, brother mine. Don’t forget that you owe me one. I would prefer not to suffer alone on this Christmas dinner.” Mycroft gave Sherlock a smile, a touch less faker than usual, and went to his black car.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at John and Lestrade staring Mycroft’s back. “Don’t be hypocrites. You both wanted Henson dead. You even ordered to shoot him if they could. Mycroft wouldn’t have killed him if he surrendered, which would have been a shame, but you know there was very little possibility of getting the kid safe without killing him.” Sherlock shrugged.

“I was not thinking about that!” Greg proclaimed, and relented a bit at Sherlock’s raised eyebrow. “Well, a bit, but I was more thinking about him going there without any weapon or protective gears!”

“You don’t have to worry about him. There were more than 10 agents hiding in the dark, watching the scene like a hawk. I don’t know why, but they are oddly fond of my brother.” Sherlock said with distaste. “And who said he didn’t have any weapons? Do you think he’s carrying his umbrella everywhere for fun?” Sherlock finished with his usual ‘you idiots’ tone.

John and Greg didn’t know what to say, and just stared with their mouth hanging open.

Sherlock naturally grew bored and lost interest in the scene now that they found the kids. “Come on, John! There’s nothing interesting left here.” He swiftly turned and produced the cap out of nowhere.

John automatically followed him, and regained some of his thought processing ability when he sat on the back of the taxi. “Huh. Well, thank god the kids were found quickly.”

“Yes, at the cost of my peaceful Christmas dinner.” Sherlock’s distaste was clear.

John laughed. “True, but it’s also true Mycroft always finds some excuse to drag you to the Christmas dinner every year. You would be there even if yesterday and today didn’t happen.” John said in a sure tone. He may not observant as Sherlock, or Mycroft, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t notice anything.

Sherlock just grumbled, confirming John’s assessment. John smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to show Mycroft is genius as well as Sherlock, but unfortunately, I'm not, so this was the best I could do :'( Especially with knowing next to nothing about London's geography or system...  
> /Well, maybe my next attempt will be better.
> 
> Thank you for reading it! Kudos and comments appreciated <3


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